


An Unusual Coalition

by dptullos



Category: Vorkosigan Saga
Genre: Alliances of Convenience, No One Loves the Secret Police
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dptullos/pseuds/dptullos
Summary: A sequel of sorts to "Behind the Campstool", set in a Barrayar gone mad.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	An Unusual Coalition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anstaar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anstaar/gifts).



General William Vordormer sat down at the desk and considered his letter. 

Or rather, he considered his letters. Nine of them lay discarded on the side of the desk, bound for the fireplace. The tea had gone cold more than an hour ago, the messenger was probably sick of waiting, and he really had no excuse. As a proper Vor officer, he must report to his Emperor. 

_Sire,_ he began. Always a safe beginning. _I am pleased to report a victory over the forces of the_ _traitor Grishnov_. Even better. Now came the hard part. _I marched my division towards the city of Augustgrad upon Your Imperial Majesty's command. When I arrived, however, the traitor's forces were already fighting with partisans within the city_. 

Smoke had been rising above Augustgrad when his "division" came swarming out of the woods. Grishnov's forces had been fighting hard, driving into the city, but their commander was a professional. His sentries had given him just enough time to break away before he could be caught between Vordormer's soldiers and Augustgrad. _I beg to report to Your Imperial Majesty the capture of four pieces of artillery and six hundred and ninety-two prisoners_. Most of them conscripts from the country, peasant boys who had barely known how to hold a rifle. William had made better use of them by sending them home to grow crops. 

_I am currently cooperating with the local militia, seeking to convince them of the righteousness of Your Imperial Majesty's benevolent rule. I have hopes that they will see the wisdom of cooperation as we await the next attack from the traitor.  
_

_Your Imperial Majesty's most obedient servant,_

_General William Vordormer_

He sealed the letter, threw the rejects into the fireplace, and handed the envelope to the messenger, who gave him a clumsy salute. William returned the salute and watched the man walk briskly down the hallway. 

The next part would not be easy. But a Vordormer did not falter in his duty to his Emperor, no matter what that duty might require. If Emperor Louis Vorbarra was going to survive, he needed Augustgrad, and that meant dealing with the world as it was, not as His Imperial Majesty wished it to be. William examined his uniform in the mirror, straightened his collar, and walked forth into the lion's den. 

Two shabby-looking men in red armbands stood outside the door of what had been Count Vormarchand's dining room. Neither of them saluted at his approach, but the older man did nod politely enough, and he opened the door for William like a proper servant should. It shut behind him with a resounding thud, and he looked at the scene in front of him. 

Three "delegates" were shouting at the Speaker and each other, a babble of hysterical, furious noise. William only caught snatches of their conversation. "Not enough food!" "Politically unreliable _!" "_ Traitors to the People!" 

"Enough." Jonas Fischer spoke clearly, the single word cutting across the noise. "All of your concerns have been heard. All of them will be addressed tomorrow, in the Great Square, when the People's Speaker stands before the People. But the decision is made, and I stand by it." 

The unhappy "delegates" stormed out, casting furious glances at William before they left. He ignored them entirely. A Vordormer did not concern himself with insults from inferiors, no matter what titles these unjumped proles might claim.

"Please," Fischer said, his voice calm and courteous. "Take a seat, General." He pulled a chair out for William, and he took his place. "I would like to thank you for your help this morning."

"It was my duty," William said flatly. "To my Emperor and yours, His Imperial Majesty Louis Vorbarra. By the right of blood inheritance from Emperor Yuri, son of Emperor Dorca, the Great Unifier, he commands your loyalty." 

Emily Vormarchand laughed. She was leaning against the wall, dressed in a workingman's trousers and tunic, and William reflected again on the insanity that had consumed his world. "Commands," Vormarchand said coldly. "Dorca unified Barrayar with an _army_ , General. How many divisions does His Imperial Majesty Louis Vorbarra have?" 

One, if he was feeling generous. A regiment and a half, if he wanted to be accurate. Louis Vorbarra was the rightful Emperor, the blood heir of Dorca, but there were four others who claimed the campstool besides the puppet Gregor, and all of them had more soldiers. Tempting as it was to simply shoot Vormarchand for her insolence, William had his duty to the Emperor. 

"Give me two seasons," William promised. "I will beat your militia into a real army, and we shall defeat the traitor Grishnov." He could do it. They would enter Vorbarra Sultana, and Louis Vorbarra would restore the true Barrayar, the rightful Barrayar. Free from galactic corruption and treacherous proles like Grishnov. 

Speaker Fischer nodded politely. "That seems like a good idea," he said. Vormarchand opened her mouth to object, and he held up a hand. "I think you would make an excellent military advisor, General. I'm sure that Comrade Marchand would approve as well." A smile crept over Vormarchand's face, and he found it more and more difficult to keep his hand away from his nerve disruptor.

"Advisor," William said. Not _commander_. This prole traitor expected William to serve under him. No doubt they would have a "delegate" watching everything he did, while their own demagogues sought to corrupt his honest soldiers.

Every Vor instinct screamed at him to end this now. He could crush the rebellion and deliver Fischer and his "comrades" to a firing squad. For all her crimes, Emily Vormarchand was a Count's daughter, so she would die by the sword. His Emperor would commend him for putting down a nest of traitors. 

And then they would die in the woods, hunted by Grishnov's men, and the usurping Minister would continue to rule Barrayar through his puppet. "I accept," he said, hating every word. 

They walked out together, under the red flags of treason and rebellion, and William looked out upon the mob that he would make into soldiers, men and women gathered together with red armbands. He would help this "Republic of Augustgrad", and if fate was kind one day he would have the pleasure of burning the city to the ground. 

"Death to all who would overthrow the rightful Emperor," he said, speaking more to himself than to the traitors walking to either side of him. 

"Death to all who would oppress the People," Vormarchand said, and Fischer stepped between them, a placating smile on his face. 

"Death to the traitor Grishnov," Fischer said, and after a moment William let himself smile at the older man. Fischer raised his voice so the crowd could hear. "Death to the traitor Grishnov!"

"DEATH TO THE TRAITOR GRISHNOV!"

They were revolutionaries and traitors themselves, but just for a moment William let himself relax, basking in the roar of pure hatred from the crowd. He had never heard a more beautiful sound. 


End file.
